


Disparate

by Poison_literature



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Asexuality, Demisexual Draco Malfoy, Developing Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy-centric, Gray-Asexual Draco Malfoy, H/D Sex Fair 2020, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Luna Lovegood is a Good Friend, M/M, POV Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson is a Good Friend, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Pre-Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26525041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poison_literature/pseuds/Poison_literature
Summary: adjectivedistinct in kind; essentially different; dissimilar------------------------------------------------Ever since he went to Hogwarts, Draco realized that he wasn't quite the same as the others.orDraco Malfoy over the years as he tries to understand and accept his sexuality.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 20
Kudos: 179
Collections: 2020 Harry/Draco Sex Fair





	Disparate

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt #[44](https://docs.google.com/document/d/12_5f6f0xUXhqtWfMlhXRyA8kDC3KGShN3oa_IOD12DY/edit#).
> 
> Hey hey hey! This is my first published work in Harry Potter so I hope it doesn't suck too much.
> 
> Most of this fic takes place before the Battle of Hogwarts and is more introspective than anything else.
> 
> Thanks to my bestie for being my beta even though she doesn't care much for Drarry. Luv u!

Draco can't quite pinpoint the exact moment when he knew he was different. 

It hadn't been a singular event, something that happened, and suddenly his world was different; it was slower.

He'd be lying if he said that he'd somehow always known that there was something different about him when compared to other kids his age.

As a child, such thoughts were barely, if at all, present in his mind. There were far more important things for a young boy to be worried about, such as how to get out of wearing that scratchy and uncomfortable set of robes that his mother had instructed him to wear to the dinner party. Draco had always just assumed that one day he would find someone and live happily ever after just like his parents.

On his 5th birthday, when it was announced that he and the girl he sometimes got to play in the garden with, Pansy as his five-year-old self recalled, were to get married when they were older, he didn't think anything of it. Pansy was fun, if a bit of a brat at times, but so was he. He liked her, though probably not in the way that two people getting married should like each other, with loving eyes and soft caresses. He figured that would come in time.

No. If he had to choose a time, it'd probably be when he went to Hogwarts. 

It wasn't such a big deal at first, as most first years were simply in awe at the grandness of the school; Draco was too, but he knew better than to show it outwardly. 

Classes were interesting, and he excelled at potions; the only thing that annoyed him was that twig masquerading as a person, the boy who lived, Harry Potter. 

He had actually quite admired him at the beginning. Harry was the only person who had ever survived the killing curse, while he was a baby at that! What's not to admire?

He rejected Draco's offer of friendship, though, which stung. A lot. Not that he would ever admit that. He knew better than to show weakness.  
He had decided to leave it up to fate, whether or not he would continue to pursue a friendship with Harry: If they were sorted into the same house, Draco would give it another chance. He couldn't help the heavy feeling of disappointment that settled in his chest when he was sorted into Slytherin, and Harry into Gryffindor. 

Oh well. It was for the best. As his father said, it was unbefitting of a pureblood Slytherin like him to befriend a lowly Gryffindor like Potter.  
He ignored that traitorous part of his mind that whispered that he wished he had been sorted into Gryffindor with Harry instead.

Later on, when Dumbledore gave Potter and his friends those additional points, cheating Slytherin out of the House Cup they had all been ecstatic to win, Draco would wonder what he even saw in that green-eyed jerk.

.

By the beginning of the second year, Draco knew well enough to avoid wandering around in the dark and secluded nooks and crannies of the castle. Well, he knew enough to try to avoid them, the castle had a mind of its own, and if Draco had a sickle for each time he accidentally walked in on some poor couple getting it on in the shadows, he'd have enough to buy like… two chocolate frogs. So, it wasn't a substantial amount of money, but definitely waaaaay too many times getting mentally scarred.  
He tried not to think about those … horrific memories, but he did wonder about it at times. What about it was so appealing to them? Would Draco one day also find that appeal? 

The idea of … whatever that was, made him uncomfortable. Like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin, to claw at it until it felt right again.  
Yeah. He tried not to think about it.

Instead, he turned his focus towards antagonizing Potter, who everyone believed was the heir of Slytherin for some dumb reason. He hung out with that mudblood girl all the time, which Draco would never understand. Why would someone like Potter want to hang out with the likes of her and Weasel? He had heard that he was raised by muggles, but why associate with those beneath them? His father would have never allowed him to associate with someone so low.

.

During third year he got attacked by the hippogriff. He'd kicked up a fuss, mostly because he was a brat, and he could. Word reached his father, and the next thing he knew, the damn thing was going to be executed. 

He hadn't wanted the creature to die. But he couldn't do anything about it. He had tried to persuade them that killing it was unnecessary and that there was no need for such drastic actions, but one look from his father had him shut his mouth. It was a look that foreshadowed the pain and wrath that would follow if he disappointed and embarrassed his father any more than he already had. It was a look that Draco knew well. 

Shut up or face the consequences.

He'd kicked up a fuss, and now the poor creature had to pay the price. He didn't really know what else he was supposed to do, though; this was all he had been taught to do.

Yeah, he was a jerk. But he believed that he fully paid the price of his arrogance when he got turned into a ferret, getting mocked by Weasley of all people. 

Pansy had been his only solace. She understood him, sometimes even better than he did himself. As a fellow pureblood and having practically grown up together, Pansy knew the responsibilities and restrictions of pureblood society well.

She let him wallow in his self-hatred and regret, letting him rest his head on her lap, gently running her fingers through his hair while loudly proclaiming how her poor Draco had been attacked by a horrid beast. She knew he couldn't allow people to know the real reason he was upset. 

On the outside, Draco was simply being an entitled and whiny prick, but at least someone was able to see the real him, even if it was just Pansy.

.

There was a rumor that they were dating. How strange. 

Draco hadn't been sure about how he was supposed to feel. Technically, he and Pansy were betrothed to be married someday, and so dating each other wouldn't have been out if the ordinary; in fact, some would probably say that it was expected of them, but to Draco, it just seemed weird. Off. Strangely uncomfortable. 

Thank goodness Pansy felt the same way. They simply knew each other too well; if anything, they were more like siblings to each other. 

It was just as well that their relationship remained strictly platonic as Pansy came out to him about her bisexuality during fourth year, which led to a very long discussion into how although she liked both guys and girls, she just had a kind of "preference for girls, ya know? They're really cute and pretty."

Draco was 100% supportive of his best friend and listened intently as she ranted about cute guys and pretty girls. He didn't really get it, but he was trying, and that was enough for the both of them.

It wasn't unheard of in wizarding society for a witch or wizard to dabble in a bit of same-sex romance, but there was still a kind of stigma around it. There were very few openly… bent wizards out there as having such preferences could potentially damage one's reputation for the rest of their life.

Draco did not want to put his best friend through such a possibility.

So the two would keep their mouths shut. Let people make as many assumptions over their relationship as they wanted. One thing's for sure, though, they definitely weren't getting married to each other. That was way too weird.

.

Draco would not lie; he had enjoyed seeing all of those once fawning students suddenly turn on Potter. Mr. Boy-who-lived, the meant-to-be saviour of the wizarding world, suddenly had half of Hogwarts turned against him. It served him right for putting his name in the goblet, leave it to Potter to figure out how to do that as if he didn't already have enough attention on him, the bloody git.

Anyways, a Slytherin like him couldn't very well just let such an opportunity pass. He took full advantage, creating badges and feeding information about Potter to that Skeeter woman. It had made him feel proud seeing people wearing his badges, made him feel vindicated like he was finally getting even.

.

By the time the Yule Ball occurred, it was obvious that Draco would bring his best friend.

He had tried to convince Pansy that he wouldn't mind at all if she went ahead and asked someone else to go with her, like that Ravenclaw girl a year below them that she had been checking out from time to time.

Pansy had refused, on the grounds that they were supposed to keep her interests in girls low key, and going to the Yule Ball with one was definitely not low key.

"Not only that," she had told him, "I just find her kinda cute looking, much better than some of the other options here, but that's kinda it. She's probably straight and not to mention a little too bookish for me. God, imagine me dating a Ravenclaw! I'd probably throw myself off the astronomy tower out of sheer boredom." Pansy made an overdramatic expression of mock disgust that left Draco laughing so hard he almost fell out of his chair. Good thing they were alone; they both knew better than to act so juvenile in public.

"What about you? Wouldn't you rather ask a girl, or guy I mean I have no right to judge, instead of taking your friend, as beautiful and kind and loving and amazing as she is?" 

Ordinarily, Pansy's behavior would earn her an amused scoff and an eye roll from the blond, but this time she got .no such reaction. Instead, Draco stopped laughing, his expression suddenly turning somber and severe.

"Hey, Pans?" He whispered quietly into the silence of the room, "I think there's something wrong with me."

"What do you mean?"

Pansy had looked so concerned that had he not been so anxious that he felt like his internal organs were about to spew out of his mouth, he probably would have laughed. 

"I think I'm broken. Something is missing. I don't know what kind of higher power there is, but I think they fucked up while creating me. I-" He choked out a shaky breath, practically sobbing at this point.

"I don't think I can love."

He then spent the rest of that day crying in the comfort of Pansy's arms, telling her how he had never felt attracted to anyone ever and that while all the other fourth years were obsessing about crushes and dating, he simply couldn't imagine himself in such a situation without feeling like he'd have to claw off his skin. He confessed how scared he was that he would be alone forever and how terrified he was of disappointing his parents.

Pansy, ever his saving grace, had simply held him close and whispered comforting reassurances into his ear.

"Don't worry. You've never had a crush, so what? Maybe you haven't met the right person yet." 

Draco had sobbed harder at that; he doubted he ever would, 

"And even if you don't, so what? You're Draco bloody Malfoy, you don't need to waste your time on such trivial things like the rest of us simpletons. And you _can_ love, Hun. Like how you love your mother, and how you love spending rainy days indoors reading by the window, and how you loved that pet snake you got on your seventh birthday who ran away; you cried for a week over that." 

Draco had to stifle a small chuckle at that; he _did_ love that damn snake.

"Plus, who needs romance when they've got a best friend like me?"

That finally drew a scoff and an eye roll out of the Malfoy, which caused the two Slytherins to burst out laughing.

"Hey, Pans?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

.

The yule ball ended up being quite fun. Draco was dressed impeccably in a sparkling white dress robe ordered from Madam Malkins made of the best fabrics that money could buy. It was no exaggeration to say that the Malfoy heir looked ethereal.

The gleaming white of the robes accentuated his pale skin and platinum hair, making him look stunning and ethereal. There was no question of his Veela heritage; he was practically glowing with an aura of elegance and allure. 

Despite that, Draco managed to enjoy a night of fun and dancing with his best friend. They laughed quietly to each other as they made snarky comments about the other students. He barely noticed the people who kept staring at him as he glided across the hall to the music. 

Most of the attention had been drawn by the champions and their dates. Without the usual sets of eyes on him, Draco almost felt free. He got to laugh with Pansy about Harry's atrocious dancing skills and just forget about his image and his responsibilities. He had so much fun, he didn't even notice the lingering gaze of one boy-who-lived near the end of the night.

That night, he had fallen onto his bed, completely exhausted but happier than he had felt in a long time. Within moments, Draco Malfoy was slipping into the sweet embrace of sleep.

.

Fifth-year had started off great. The Dark Lord had returned, which meant that his father was in a great mood. He was also made the Slytherin Prefect along with Pansy, an honour that Saint Potter didn't get to receive. Draco had felt like he earned the right to taunt Potter over it, considering their history. The mud blood ended up being a Prefect, but he guessed that it would have to be her out of all other Gryffindors, even if she was a mud blood. Weasel, on the other hand, well, Draco guested he could have the title of Prefect at the very least, what with how much he's been helping the Slytherin team in quidditch. So the song and the insults were a little bit over the top, but hey, they did give him a good beating. He liked to think that counted for something. 

Then when he became a member of the inquisitorial squad, he suddenly had even more power over Harry. You really couldn't blame him for lording it over Potter and docking points from Gryffindor for … honestly really dumb and petty reasons thinking back on it. But he felt like he was justified to take those points since they took the house cup from them in first year. It was only fair.

After all, pride and honour was everything. Without it, he'd be nothing. He was finally making his father proud.

Then, of course, it had all fallen apart. His father had been thrown into Azkaban and suddenly found himself at the bottom of Death Eater ranks. Not that he had actually been part of them, but he was going to now. They were acting as though it was such an honour to receive the dark mark, to become an official part of the Dark Lord's forces, and be trusted with a task by the Dark Lord himself. 

Draco knew better, though. It was meant to be a punishment for his father for failing to retrieve the prophecy. 

He had to spend the nights before his return to Hogwarts, listening to his mother crying to herself. They both knew what the punishment really was. Draco was never meant to survive his task. 

The punishment was to be his death.

It was absolute torture; Draco was stuck in limbo. He couldn't fail, for that would mean a slow and torturous death for him and his parents, if he was lucky (or unlucky) enough to survive his task, but he also knew that he couldn't do it. He was a coward. He may have talked big, but that was all a front, now faced with the task of fixing the vanishing cabinet as well as _killing_ Dumbledore, he was falling apart at the seams. 

Regardless of how cruel he was to those he seemed lesser than him, and how much power he believed he held, Draco Malfoy was not a killer. 

He had decided to focus on his first impossible task first, fixing the cabinet, and when Borgin sold him the necklace and hand, he thought that he might have found a way in which he could actually succeed. He couldn't kill Dumbledore directly, but if he were to get someone else to do it or do it indirectly, he would technically have completed his task while still… somehow in his own mind, have plausible deniability on his role in the murder. It didn't have much logic to it at all, but at that point, Draco had been under so much stress he felt like all reason had fled his being.

Both his attempts failed. He hurt others. He hurt innocent people. 

He never meant for Katie Bell or the Weasel to get hurt; he just wanted to keep himself and his family safe. He was already too far gone; there was no going back for him. All he had was his pride, and even that was falling apart at the seams.

The pressure eventually got to him, and he ended up crying to a strangely sympathetic Myrtle, letting out all of his fear and stress and dread, and he just hated himself. He was selfish, he knew, but all he wanted was for things to go back to how they were in fourth year when his biggest problem was Potter and his lack of romantic interest in anyone. He hadn't thought of such trivial issues in ages. Hell, he probably wouldn't live long enough for his lack of attraction to ever actually affect his life.

When that damn Potter showed up and cast that Sectumsempra on him, he hadn't known how to feel. On the one hand, he was bleeding out on the bathroom floor, he would fail his task and thus doom his parents. The panic was like a low fire, spreading through his veins and filling his lungs. On the other hand, Draco had never felt more at peace. He wouldn't have to worry anymore. Once he was dead, he wouldn't have to do the Dark Lord's bidding, and he would never need to worry about his future and his fear of ending up alone because he was incapable of love.

The weird amalgamation of panic and peace had been so overwhelming that he didn't even notice Snape's arrival and himself getting saved. 

How he had wished that it would all be over.

Of course, it hadn't been the end of it. That would have been too easy on him.

The time between his breakdown in the bathroom and the end of the second wizarding war had passed both excruciatingly slow and far too fast. Dumbledore was dead, the Dark Lord was living in his house, Luna had been snatched off of the train and brought to the Manor. When he was there, he made sure to try to make things as easy as possible for her. She never did anything that warranted all of that; she was Loony Luna, she wasn't supposed to get tortured and held prisoner in his home.

No. That place was no longer his home. Hadn't been since the death eaters took it over. Home was supposed to be safe; here, he was surrounded by those who wished him harm.

When the Golden Trio had been brought in during his Easter break, and he had been summoned to identify Potter, who was under a stinging hex, he didn't want to. 

He wanted Potter to live, to defeat the monster living in his house. 

So he lied. 

He couldn't have said that it wasn't Potter, he was under enough scrutiny already, but he did say that he wasn't sure. 

The light session of crucio hadn't been that bad, but he wondered if he made the right choice.

The Dark Lord seemed like he was winning. Draco decided to have one last-ditch effort to try to capture Potter. He may want him to win, but the survival of his family came first. He had to try; he had to. For the sake of his parents, their lives, and the shambles of his pride.

He didn't know why Potter saved him. He should have left him to die. He was selfish. 

He stopped Crabbe from killing Granger, sure, but it was his pride and desperation that led them there. He wasn't able to stop Crabbe from burning the room down with Fiendfyre, which inevitably led to his death. It was his fault. He should've been able to stop him. 

The Dark Lord had declared Harry dead. The anguished cries of all of Potter's friends rang in his ears. Granger, Weasley, Luna, Longbottom; they were all absolutely devastated. But they didn't give up. They didn't submit to the Dark Lord just because he had won. They were going to fight him to their very last breath. Because they weren't cowards. And Draco had thought that maybe he didn't want to keep being one either.

The end of the battle passed in a blur; Potter was alive, Voldemort was dead. He and his family had been placed on trial where Potter of all people had testified for him and his mother. His father went to Azkaban, but he managed to get a reduced sentence of 3 years instead of life.

Draco and his mother went free, but with their reputation and lives in tatters, Narcissa Malfoy had decided to move to one of their estates in France. Draco remained in Britain though, moving into muggle London to escape the press and the memories. 

That year did him a lot of good. No one knew who he was and what he had done; it was a clean slate. He had gotten a muggle job and a modestly sized apartment. Muggle technology was truly fascinating, what with their handy devices they could carry around with them to listen to music to. Not to mention this thing that they called the internet. 

Absolutely wonderful.

He also found out about Asexuality. 

He was Asexual. 

There was a name for what he was. There were other people out there just like him. There was nothing wrong with him. 

He was simply just Asexual.

Probably also Aromantic.

And he felt like his world was less fractured than before.

He had debated whether or not to return to Hogwarts after the reparations for a so-called 'Eighth year' but had ultimately decided to return at the behest of his mother.

Being back in Hogwarts had been weird; as Eighth years, they were no longer separated by houses and instead had a wing all to themselves. They also got to have their own personal rooms where they could enjoy more privacy. 

They had combined the new first years with those that were supposed to join the year before, while the school was being rebuilt, which was necessary seeing as very few parents were sending their children to Hogwarts after the disaster of the last few years.

To be fair, not many eighth years had returned either. In fact, Draco had been the only Slytherin to return for the year, Pansy and Blaise both having moved abroad to finish their studies. 

The biggest shock, though, was the developing friendship between him and Potter.

Draco knew going back that he would find little sympathy at Hogwarts. On his first day back, Luna had been the only one who would even talk to him. Then there were the curses and hoaxes being flung his way by younger students, the other Eighth years probably would have joined in as well, but they were tired of fighting.

Potter had surprised him by stepping in and chasing off his assailants. For some stupid reason after that, the Gryffindor had taken to following him around like a lost puppy.

How had it come to this? 

"So… Malfoy, how are y-" 

"Potter. I'm trying to eat my breakfast in peace." 

Draco gestured pointedly at his plate of sausages and eggs before stabbing his fork into a piece of sausage and taking a bite.

Potter let out a tired sigh.

"I'm just trying to be friendly here," he said, shaking his head a little at Draco's stubbornness. They _had_ started to become a lot friendlier with each other now that the war was over, but the Slytherin was in no mood to deal with Potter's mother-henning this early in the morning. 

"and _I'm_ trying to eat," he informed the Gryffindor, "so if you would please kindly fuck off, I would be ever so grateful." 

Potter rolled his eyes at him, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

In his periphery, he saw someone sit down right next to him, essentially trapping him between them and Potter.

"Don't worry, Harry. Draco's just got a bad case of Nargles today."

Ah yes, Luna Lovegood. One of the few people in Hogwarts who treated him like a regular person. Well, as regular as Luna could treat someone.

The two had struck up a bit of a friendship after the war, with Luna occasionally dropping by his muggle apartment for tea. She had apparently decided that since Draco had gone out of his way to make sure she was comfortable during her imprisonment at the Manor, he was a good guy and didn't deserve all the hatred directed at him. Draco disagreed, but didn't have the heart to fight her on it. Oh, the things he let that girl get away with.

"Good morning, Luna," he greeted. "Could you please tell Potter that he should get a hobby other than stalking and annoying the daylights out of me?"

Potter glared at him.

"I do not stalk you! I… just happen to be keeping an eye on you to make sure you're staying out of trouble."

Draco raised one delicate blonde eyebrow. "So...you're stalking me."

"...yeah."

The look on Potter's face sent him into a fit of laughter, something which surprised even himself. He hadn't truly laughed or smiled since before Voldemort had moved into the Manor.

"You're hilarious, Potter." he chuckled. "I might actually allow you to hang around more if you're always this entertainingly stupid. Makes a great distraction from my crippling self-hatred."

Draco laughed harder as Harry's expression went from mildly hopeful to moderately concerned, which slowly morphed into a deeply concerned frown as Draco's peals of hysterical laughter continued.

"Ah, Potter," he gasped when he finally caught his breath, wiping away the tears of laughter from his eyes. "You really should consider going into comedy. At this rate, I won't even need to pitch myself off the Astronomy Tower to end my misery. Just imagine the headline: Death Eater Scum dies of Laughter - The Saviour Strikes again!"

He was still giggling a little by the end of his mini-rant, but Harry looked on the verge of a mental breakdown. Luna was just eating her toast with a knife and fork.

"Potter, I'm just kidding." he said in a poor attempt at reassuring the man, "Honestly, can't you take a joke?"

That seemed to snap Harry out of whatever trance he had fallen into, and the man gave him a disapproving scowl.

"That's not funny," he grumbled angrily as Ron and Hermione joined them at the table.

The conversation then turned to a slightly academic debate on the efficiency of magical pesticides where he and Hermione were arguing about potential ways to improve current potions while Luna occasionally interjected with homeopathic methods of magical pest removal.

"I have no idea what is going on," Ron groaned in boredom, "can't you guys talk about something us normal people can understand?" 

"Ron, with how little you understand, you're honestly lucky you've got Hermione to help you study," teased Harry. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Like you have any right to talk," he snapped back. "You're just jealous I have such a genius girlfriend. Thanks to her, I've been doing pretty good in most of my classes, so you have no right to judge. The only class I still actually struggle in is potions, and we all know Draco is better at it than anyone."

Harry looked like he wanted to disagree but begrudgingly had to admit that yes, Draco Malfoy had Hermione beat when it comes to potions.

"Wait for a second," he suddenly exclaimed, standing up from his seat. "Draco?! Did you just call Malfoy, Draco?" 

Ron nodded and looked at Harry as though he had grown a second head.

"Yeah, man. You're like the only one who still calls him Malfoy."

Draco noted that Potter looked dumbfounded and almost offended at his best friend's response. The blond smirked.

"You know, Potter," he drawled lazily. "You can call me Draco as well. I don't mind. So no need to be jealous of your friends. You're special too." 

Potter's face grew redder and redder at Draco's teasing sarcasm.

"Sod off!" he yelled, which only prompted a bark of laughter out of the blond.

"Okay, okay. Geez, Harry, Chill." He huffed, causing Potter to turn an oddly endearing shade of red. He didn't know why he felt a slight fluttering feeling in his gut at the sight. He shook it off, attributing the sensation to being happy surrounded by people he could almost call friends. 

Happiness and Draco Malfoy.

Ha, and wasn't that just crazy.

.

"Draco!" came the obnoxiously pleasant voice of Harry Potter from somewhere off to his left. 

He wasn't in the mood for...people right then. His day had been shit; first, he had discovered that the door to his dorm had been vandalized at some point between potions and herbology when he went to retrieve his notes for DADA. Then, right before lunch, he had been cornered by a bunch of sixths and seventh years who shot curses and insults at him while he lay on the floor. He dropped by the Hospital Wing, where he had hoped to quickly grab a healing potion and return to whatever he had been doing before. However, despite what he had hoped, the room was not vacant; Madame Pomfrey sat at her desk, looking through some papers.

Great, Draco had thought. Now he had to talk to the older witch. He hated the pitying look Madame Pomfrey got on her face whenever he dropped by to get himself healed of whatever new curses he had had inflicted upon him. He couldn't stand the quick concerned glances she would give him whenever she thought he wasn't looking. 

This time was no different. He just tried to hurry out of the room as fast as he could.

"Mr. Malfo-" Draco ignored the witch's words, and half stumbled half limped out into the hallway.

He took a quick glance at one of the many clocks in the school. Great, he was a good half-hour late for class. 

Draco rolled his eyes exasperatedly, walking in the direction of the Eighth year dorms; no point in going to class at this point, and while he was hungry, he had no appetite for food or the energy to deal with the house-elves working down in the kitchens.

He'd just head back to his room and take a nap for the rest of the day. Madame Pomfrey would probably corroborate on his story that he was feeling unwell.

So when he heard Harry's voice calling his name, he had to hold in an annoyed sigh of frustration. Of all times, the-boy-who-lived just had to be wandering the halls while he was supposed to be in class.

Draco debated just turning around and taking another route to get back to his room, but before he could actually follow through with the thought, Harry had already run up to him, huffing slightly as though he had been running around earlier. Knowing him, it wouldn't be surprising if he had been.

"Aren't you supposed to be in class?" Draco asked the other boy, partly out of curiosity but mostly out of the hope that that would somehow get Harry off of his back and far away from him.

"I could ask you the same," Harry replied with a raised eyebrow. "I came out here to look for you since you didn't show up for class.

Oh yeah. It was one of the few classes that he and Harry actually shared. He didn't think anyone would notice his absence or if they did, wouldn't care enough to do anything about it.

"Oh," he responded dumbly, then asked, "why? how?"

Harry looked a mixture of slightly amused but also mildly concerned, as though he wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or frown.

"Anyways, where are you headed right now? Our class is in the other direction." 

Draco noted the change in topic but was too tired to really care.

"Back to the dorms," he replied. "No point in returning to class at this point, and I don't feel like going to any of the other classes."

Harry started to look more concerned.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his tone becoming more and more upset. "Did something happen? Were you attacked again? Who was it? I'll give them a real beating. I thought the last time would've taught them, but I guess I'll have to make things even clearer." 

At that moment, he looked the furthest thing from the idealized saviour of the wizarding world. He was just a teenaged boy looking for a fight.

It was such a sight that Draco couldn't help but let out a laugh.

Harry paused and looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Sorry," Draco huffed out between giggles. "It's just that you reminded me that despite being the boy-who-lived, you're really just a boy."

"Hey, I'm almost 20!"

"Like that'll stop you from being immature."

"We're the same age!"

"Doesn't change the fact that I'm the more mature one."

"As if! You're the one who likes to start petty arguments."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do!"

"Nope. No idea."

"Oh my god! Look who's being a child now!"

"Sorry, can't hear you!"

"Draco!"

"Harry."

The two continued bantering and joking until Draco suddenly found himself outside of his dorm room door. He hadn't even noticed that they had started walking.

"I guess here's where I'll leave you to rest." Harry smiled a little awkwardly.

Draco smiled back.

"Yeah."

There was a moment of silence where neither of them made a move, both of them lingering in the moment as if they didn't quite want it to end.  
Just before the silence could become awkward, Harry reached out and took Draco's hand, and as the blond looked on in confusion, planted a gentle kiss on the back of his hand.

"Have a nice rest, Draco."

Harry then left, leaving a flushed Draco standing frozen in front of his door. 

Shaking his head in an effort to snap out of it, he quickly escaped into his room, slamming the door. He leaned against it, legs feeling weak, slowly sliding down until he was on the floor. His heart was beating fast, fluttering like a swarm of fairies, and there was this odd feeling in his stomach that made him feel both weightless and heavy, as though he would just float away but was also too heavy to float. 

Placing his hands on his cheeks, he noted how warm and flushed they were. Was he _blushing_? The thought of Harry only made these weird symptoms worsen, and he didn't know how to stop them.

"What the actual fuck?!"

**Author's Note:**

> My Ace/Aro ass trying to write 'romance' while knowing nothing of it. Can you feel me projecting onto Draco at some points? 
> 
> The two idiots get their heads outta their asses and finally get together like a week later. Let's just say, the internet played a large part in Draco's understanding of and accepting his sexuality, and now he and Harry bicker lovingly as their friend feign disgust. Except for Luna.
> 
> She fucking high fives Draco the first time he and Harry walk into the dining hall hand in hand.
> 
> And you can bet your ass that Pansy's first reaction at the news of their relationship was to demand that Draco "better make me your maid of honour."
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please support the author by clicking on the kudos button and leaving a comment below! ♥


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